By Any Means Necessary
by Helen1969
Summary: This is what happens when I've come across one too many slash fics with a certain pairing... I needed an antidote, and you have been warned! Incidentally, this is a totally stand-alone bit of "what if", and is in no way related to my ongoing continuity...


By Any Means Necessary...

by

I'mnevergoingtolive _this_ onedown...

 _Respectfully dedicated to "PollywantsaHarlock" who should have known better than to give me any encouragement when I make throwaway comments… be careful what you wish for!  
_

* * *

Alternate timeline: Not long after Tokarga…

Yama walked as quietly as he could onto the gantry overlooking the main bridge. As he'd determined some weeks ago, this was the brief hour of the "night" that Harlock always cleared the bridge and stood the watch alone for an hour or so.

Every night. A lone man wrapped in darkness, standing at the wheel of his ship.

Quietly wasn't silent, however; his boots clicked across the metal floor, but the man at the helm didn't bother turning to look at him. 'Yama,' he acknowledged quietly.

'Captain.' He stood close to the taller man, just watching. The lights on the bridge were dimmed, but enough glow from the ever-present dark matter engine behind them remained to highlight the ship's wheel; to watch Harlock's gloved hands gently making almost imperceptible adjustments as if in response to something only he could feel. Like a man caressing the skin of a lover who's every soft sigh and movement he knew how to play like an instrument.

 _Was it real wood…?_ Almost as though unbidden, he stripped off a glove, finger by finger, with meticulous precision, and let it drop to the floor. He reached out and laid he bare hand on one of the beautifully turned grips, curling his fingers around the hard, smooth wood, worn to a satin finish by – what – a hundred years of being caressed by a lover's deft touch. The grain of the wood was just tangible to his fingertips, warming under his touch. He let his fingers drift lightly over the surface, gently stroking it, curling his hand around the smooth shaft…so smooth…

A hand covered his. The rough touch of old leather against his skin strangely cool. Yama look up and to his left to see the captain looking down on him, a strange look in his one brown eye, his wide, sensual mouth giving away a strained tension in those full lips. 'Maybe you shouldn't play with things you don't understand,' Harlock whispered harshly.

'What makes you think I don't understand?' he replied equally softly. 'Why don't you touch her as she ought to be touched?' He removed his hand from under Harlock's, and placed it on top of that rough leather. 'Do you keep your ship at arms' length the way you do everyone else?' The question was as disingenuous as he could make it, the tone only slightly flirtatious. 'You know, I read your file before taking this mission.' He curled his fingers over Harlock's the way he had back on Tokarga, when it had taken both their strength to free the little landing craft. 'Your old personnel file. It had been redacted at some point, but it made for interesting reading. A loner. Prone to melancholy fits. Only one real relationship that anyone knew about...'

'Don't go there.' It was a quiet, but very clear order. Yama bowed his head in embarrassment.

'I'm sorry. It's just…' He looked up at the older man, a wistful smile on his face. 'I thought maybe… you might understand. What it's like. The one person I ever loved…' he took a deep breath. 'She's in a box. Did you know that? She was seventeen years old, and in one stupid, rash moment, I put her in a damn box for the rest of her life. I can talk to her, even see her after a fashion – but I can never hold her, never kiss her, never…' he didn't get to finish the sentence because Harlock's mouth was on his, bruising, demanding, softening… opening him and kissing him as though he'd pull Yama's soul right out of him, and Yama… had his hand fisted in the older man's soft dark hair, clinging tightly as though his life depended on it. Harlock's hand running long fingers down his back, enough pressure to be felt even through is jacket and tunic, pulling him closer into a lean hard body, taut and demanding. Something was pressing into his hip and he was pretty sure it wasn't the butt of an antique cosmo dragoon. At some point Harlock had let his gloves drop, because one calloused hand was tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear, pulling him deeper into that maelstrom of a kiss which already threatened to see them both go up in flames with a desperate need too long denied.

Yama pulled away with reluctance, desperate for air. Harlock stared down at him from under tousled brown hair, lips looking swollen and warm. Still inviting, a smouldering look that could set the unwary on fire. He smiled up. 'Maybe you should let me drive, old man,' he whispered.

That earned a grin. 'Less of the old.' But he didn't object when Yama pushed him back against the wheel of the ship, only grunting when it dug into his back.

'Turn round,' Yama ordered softly. 'Let go for once. I know you want to. Just to drop it all, even for an instant. How hard is it, day after day, never letting that control slip, even for a moment? Always in command, never letting anyone see what really lies beneath?'

Harlock's breathing was unsteady. 'I can't…'

Yama smiled again, knowing. 'Bullshit. I read your file, remember? I know what the rest of them could never even guess…' he purred, his lips almost touching Harlock's ear. 'Which of you it was who was really in command, in private, in the long dark nights whilst two friends discussed how they could stop a war…' His mouth claimed Harlock's again, and his hand moved to unfasten the gun belts. First the sabre rifle. Then the dragoon. 'Turn around…' He had the older man at his mercy now, and Harlock turned, unresisting as Yama used first one belt, then the other to fasten the man to his own ship's wheel. His long black cloak had hit the floor un-noticed a while since.

Pressing his body against his captain's, Yama breathed softly near his ear. 'You should know, they taught me everything I needed to know.' He pulled away slightly. 'How to get close to you. How to get through to you… what you needed to hear to _allow_ someone to get close...' He bent down to the deck and picked something up. 'Someone with just the right background, who could get you to drop your guard, even if only for a moment.' Comprehension slowly dawned. 'Someone who could deliver a timed viral data packet that would lock down the crew quarters when the opportunity...' he paused. ' _Arose...'_ he continued, with a seductive purr; 'to freeze your friend in _his_ box…'

A soft click was the only warning Harlock had before the cold barrel of his own pistol was pressed against his temple.

'Interstellar Fugitive S-00999, Captain Harlock; I hereby place you under arrest for violation of Clause 26 of the Solar Federation Regulations….'


End file.
